


to suffer divinity

by mythologies



Category: Biblical Mythology, Christian Bible (Old Testament)
Genre: Adam Hate, Angst, Everyone's gay, F/F, Fluff, Mild Violence in later chapters, Past rape/abuse, Slow Burn, Smut in the last chapter, Theological Themes, poc!Lilith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:43:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6750682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythologies/pseuds/mythologies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eve eats the apple. Eve finds the tree and eats the apple and leaves before any god can call her unholy, can make her into a sin. Dripping with holiness, hunger burning in her bones, she leaves the garden to find a new home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. how much your hunger looked like belief

Dust and fire are the first things to be named. Or created; in a place like this there is not much of a difference. The sky here is the color of milk, in some places pink, as though there is fire behind the sky, reflecting off the clean light. Like all things here, it is beautiful, it is terrible, and it is ignored.

She walks slowly. Backwards, sometimes, trailing a long leaf behind her to wipe away her footprints, an old fur wrapped around her head to protect her hair and eyes from the dust. No, sand, there is a difference, she reminds herself. Not all things grow out of dust; here, nothing does. So she ignores the lifelessness, ignores the sky burning down into her skull like a voice from above, and waves the leaf, back and forth, back and forth.

Mostly she tries not to pray.

It had been a typical thing, in the Garden, to pray; to think, thank you for this water. Thank you for this food. To do this had left her with a bad taste in her mouth despite chewing several mint leaves: giving thanks made her feel as though it could be taken away. Like if she forgot to be grateful for these berries, her mouth would not open. 

The first thing she thanked herself for was the apple. A snake around her ankles, circling. Sharp teeth that somehow do not frighten her. Her lion companions in the background, watching with held breath. She bites. She bites, and how beautiful the revelation of her own teeth is.

Night slowly falls, her tongue running over her sharp front teeth, again and again, imagining there are still pieces of the apple there. Imagining those pieces are the only sins she carries with her.

 When the sun appears to be trying to hide under the horizon, disappointed in its search for her, she quickens her pace despite the ache in her muscles. There must be life somewhere, must be something – and there is, seemingly hours after darkness had soaked into the ground and wet her feet. No, that's water; she's walked into the pond in her absence of mind.

She splashes it gratefully all over her face, ducks her head under the surface and emerges soaking, dripping, shakes her hair out like the lions do. Growls just for the fun of it, and it _is_ fun, to bare her teeth if she wishes, to growl if she wishes, to remove her leaves and sleep under the relative safety of a tree that's grown despite the aching absent divinity all around them.

She curls up imagining holy eyes on fire can't see her here.

 

* * *

 

 

Morning light does strange things to a person. Somehow the rising sun is full of fear, fear that is injected into her. She disobeyed. She left Adam to his own devices, left him with only the company of stoic angels who hold flames in their hands like it doesn't hurt. The newly colored realization wraps around her throat with all the cruelty that the snake hadn't had. Sin. Sin. Sin. Echoing around the small oasis, making the water tremble, making it so hard for her to stand.

Maybe it's just hunger.

The last thing she ate was the apple, yesterday afternoon. After that she tricked Adam into sleeping and left. Didn't wait for god to kick her out, just gave Adam some berries she knew would put him to sleep, she'd used them often enough herself, when he wants company, just to talk; if she falls asleep it isn't her fault, it's the berries.

She's been walking since.

Slept a few hours, not enough though; she notes the soreness of her bones as she finally stands, can hear them creaking under her skin. Like tall trees during a windy storm.

The tree had given her knowledge, such that recognized cruelty, in god, in Adam, in even herself, in the way she had carried herself, with innate belief. Belief in what, she isn't sure; belief feels too much like a surrender, now. In this light anything can be cruel.

And yet she can't quite summon any sympathy for Adam, left behind. No sympathy at all, not even faced with the knowledge that she is free (that word tastes like the blood of apples) and he is not, god's perfect man, god's perfect child who sins but is pure because he believes it is his right. He believes _she_ is his right. The only right he should have, she thinks, is to die. Neither of them have that. She should but she left and so he cannot touch her. God or Adam. Let them find her; she will slip through their fingers like water, a basin that denies them blessing.

Hunger interrupts her train of thought. It rumbles lowly in her stomach and she steps carefully over to the pond she had enjoyed last night; several fish swim in it, impossibly. She enters the water and stands still as stone.

“Forgot your leaves.” A voice makes her head snap up; it's the snake, sitting curved on a rock, its tail flicking playfully, or warningly, she doesn't care to know which.

“I discarded it to hide my tracks yesterday. Are you saying I am to be ashamed around you?” Her lips curve teasingly. The snake who gave her the key to shame, to fear, to rage, asking that she hide what she had been given. A joke, surely, one she acknowledges with a shake of her hair.

Its head tilts in curiosity. “Hide your tracks from whom? Adam will not follow you. He didn't follow the first woman god made for him, who also left.”

She pauses and looks at the snake. It's a deep black color, like night, with silver diamonds around its eyes and on the top of its head. It looks like no other snake she's ever seen before and she bites her tongue before saying so, fearing she will sound naive. The snake evenly returns her gaze.

She turns back to her fish. Standing still during the conversation had lulled them into a sense of security; they twine around her legs as though she were nothing more than two trees that had grown quickly.

“Using a spear would be helpful. I don't think you'll be able to just grab one, at least not one big enough to eat.”

Eve huffs and glances down; a fish is darting around her ankles. She makes to lean down and snatch it, but the heel of her foot lifts and startles the fish, which swims away. The snake makes a mocking sound, if such a thing were possible.

The day passes like this, frustratingly. Lazy and indulgent in retrospect; but reality is only the sweat pooling down her back and the burning in her muscles as she makes attempt after attempt to spear a fish, finally stepping out of the pond and fetching a stick to sharpen, at the snake's continued suggestion. In memory it is a day softly lit, the sun dimmed until it is a comfort and not a rebuke, the snake's lazy presence as it suns on the rock, the only sound that of water splashing and, later, wood being sharpened by a stone she had found in the pond.

Days such as these begin to accumulate. On the second day she wakes to find the snake still there, its tail lashing in excitement. It wants her to try fishing again, reminding her of the now painful burning in her stomach.

After two hours of trying, she does, and lays it out on a rock to cook while she tries to get another one. In only a few days she becomes more skilled with her spear, able to catch fish within minutes. As her hunger is abated, Eve decides to try other things with it: real hunting. The oasis is small, though, and the fish are nearly gone. She decides to continue journeying, tying leaves to her feet to protect them and making a water canteen as well as a vine pouch for food before leaving, the snake wrapped round her shoulders.

Her traveling had been rough before, loneliness punctuated by a merciless sun. It had taken every ounce of her willpower not to turn back; why not suffer Adam's presence, if it means cool water and food always within her reach? But now she has the snake for company, who regales her with tales of its own life. A world hotter than this, somehow, all red in places; in others black, or yellow, or so unfamiliar it feels taken straight out of some distant future. A world that changes constantly, like a thing alive, like a thing breathing. A moon-world, Eve thinks, looking at the darkened sky; a place so far away, though she wishes she could touch it still.

Days of walking quickly empty her water and food supply, until she is in nearly the same situation as the beginning. The snake's tail whips about her shoulders in frustration, encouraging her to press onward; for though she has no care if she herself collapses from exhaustion and thirst, she has her companion to think of, who would surely burn themselves on the hot sand, as has happened to her own feet, as is happening now.

The endless sand begins to give way to other landscapes. Slowly at first, as though the creator of this world had trouble deciding what should come next. A lush world like the Garden? A barren world, a Garden turned inside out, burnt all along its blood? Or a place yet more majestic and terrible?

She begins to hold her breath in anticipation. Hours to go, always, but she can see, faraway, the tips of trees and the dim call of birds. The snake coils up to her head to see better.

“It shouldn't be like this,” says the snake. Eve resists the instinct to tilt her head up at the sound, a movement like that would knock the snake to the ground.

“What do you mean?"

“The world looks half-finished. The desert shouldn't give way to a forest so much its opposite, there's something wrong.”

And as they draw closer Eve can see what she means. It looks like a line had been drawn in the sand, and on the other end a living forest had emerged, a thin barrier between sand and grass. What is most disturbing, though, is that at this distance the birds are quiet, and no sand blows to the trees.

Eve pauses at the border. She hesitates.

“This feels unnatural,” she says. The snake makes a nodding motion with its head, she feels.

“Does it look familiar to you,” asks the snake, its voice hushed as though afraid it would over-emote if given the chance.

Eve stares at the forest to find an answer. She's about to answer no, I've never seen it before, when she catches sight of something impossible lurking inside. Eyes. Human eyes.

“It's the Garden,” she whispers, terrified. “He moved the Garden.”

The eyes are getting bigger. No, she realizes, closer; she stumbles back several feet in her fright and Adam stands before her, afraid to cross the border as she had been, though no less frightening.

“You left me,” he says. “You all leave me. Why can't--”

“Why can't you be loved?” the snake finishes his sentence. Adam's eyes snap up to it, brows furrowing in confusion. What a strange sight they must make, the two of them, a woman dressed in leaves, with such a large snake wrapped around her shoulders and twice around her throat, its head coming to rest on Eve's head. Stranger still must be the way they both look so comfortable with one another. Adam, Eve recalls, is afraid of snakes. Strange how god made room for fear in his garden.

“Of course you can't be,” the snake continues, tail darting back and forth in growing anger, “you are a thing unlovable. You are a cruel person, you are a child, you resort to harm if not given what you ask for. That is why both of us left, that is why we will never return, and that is why god will eventually have given you an army of women, all of whom will leave you.”

Eve does her best to raise her chin regally, though her exhaustion and hunger makes her feel weak and small. “As the snake has said, we will not be returning. You can't be loved because you run parallel to it. Love will never touch you. Now get this garden out of our way.” Her voice isn't as commanding as the snake's had been, but it's still done a good job, she thinks, as Adam's hands begin to tremble softly. He nods, and turns his back to them (the snake hisses at this; it longs to lunge forward) and makes an upraising motion with his hands.

The garden disappears.

They remain in the desert, the sunlight seeming dimmed after what they had seen.

Silence emerges and wraps around them, broken only when Eve takes a trembling step forward, over what had been the border. She half-expects the garden to be only hidden, to suck both of them inside like a vortex, to trap them, to numb them until they can dream of no other thing than this mistaken paradise.

But it doesn't. She steps, and she steps, and she presses forth, and no vines grow from the sand to snare them, no trees grow in a close circle to halt them, no booming voice echoes from the sky to taunt them. Only the burning sensation under her feet and the calming presence of the snake around her, and the sun. Always the sun.

“I think this desert will go on for many more days. Perhaps a year. I do not think we can get to the other side of it as we are.”

Eve breathes shakily. “I can do this. I'll get us to the other side. I'll get us to – to–”

A tightening around her, and then darkness, a darkness so deep it feels the way it must have been, before all this, pre-Creation. When god grew so lonely he created an incomplete monster of a man and his two disloyal women, who turned out to be people of their own. It is a darkness such as that, and she stumbles forward a few steps, hesitating, trying to remind herself that she has a body still. 

The tightening around her grows harsher. It must be the snake, perhaps afraid, or perhaps attempting to comfort Eve with physical sensation, or both. If it had been meant as comfort it works, and she feels around in her throat for her voice. 

"This is unusual," she says, "I do not understand, I have never felt a night so complete-" 

"Rest," says the snake, "you've collapsed, the darkness is in your mind. It does not shape you. Rest. We will be safe soon."

So Eve rests, and for once in her life trusts that someone else will keep her safe while she does.

 

 

 


	2. dancing holy under your skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve begins to recover and reaches an understanding with Lilith.

Images return slowly. Adam standing before her with his palm outstretched, both of them standing separate, her the queen of the wasteland, him the ruler of his own kingdom. She refuses him. She looks down on him. Eve had never noticed that she was actually taller than Adam, by a few inches; the longer she thinks about it, the bigger she gets, until she's as deep as any ocean and twice as powerful. Until god says to her, _please become smaller, I cannot tame you like this_. Until Eve can reply, _I do not wish to be tamed, I am the mother of sin, I am ancient and vast, I will swallow you alive._ Serpentine in her language and more powerful for it.

These words and more echo around, building in volume and intensity until it breaks, and her eyes open, and light burns them.

“Oh good, you're awake,” a voice says to her right; she turns and sees what she recognizes as an angel. Or at least, someone who _used_ to be an angel – when Eve had seen them, they'd only sometimes had human forms. Sometimes god appointed them to watch her and Adam, though for what purpose she hadn't known at the time. They could have been flowers, or lions, or a single blade of grass, indistinguishable from the others were it not for the faint gold glow about them, a thing that remains constant no matter the physical form the angel takes. This person, too, has a gold glow, seemingly more bright than the others Eve has seen, gold lifting two or three inches off her brown skin.

The angel notices her staring and smiles. “I should have guessed you would have recognized what I am,” she says, her voice deep and melodic. It soothes Eve instantly. “Though we all assumed you hadn't seen an angel before. Lilith hadn't, until the very end.”

“Lilith?”

“Don't you know? You've been--”

“You should have told me she was awake, Elizabeth,” says the snake. Eve hadn't noticed it curled up next to the angel, sleeping.

“I didn't want to wake you.” Her voice is smooth but with an undercurrent of some emotion invisible to Eve.

The snake laughs mockingly. Eve has the feeling it doesn't quite like the her, for some reason. She can't imagine why.

“Where am I?” she asks, finally, trying to get a bearing on her surroundings and failing. She has no language for what she's in, it's like – a very smooth cave, clean, all white. She's on what appears to be a foreign – bed?

“It's a room,” says the snake. “You're in hell. I live here too, I brought you here when you collapsed.”

Elizabeth stands and, with a smile Eve can't quite read curving her lips, says, “I'll leave you to explain it, then.” The door closes softly behind her.

The snake gestures by tail to a tray of food that had seemingly been summoned by its movement. Steam rises from it prettily; Eve's mouth waters.

“Eat. You've only been asleep for a few hours. You must be tired still, and starving.”

So Eve reaches over to grasp the tray and lift it to her lap. The food is delicious, somehow incredibly warm, somehow greatly improved by that.

“It's cooked,” explains the snake. “Things here are not the same as they are there. Hell exists outside of time and thus all that ever will be already is. Perhaps Eden was meant to be the same way, at first. It should have been.”

The snake coils onto the bed with Eve and rests on her legs, looking at her with what she can only imagine is a soft expression, a tenderness about the eyes that hadn't been there before. Perhaps it is recognition for what had truly driven Eve, in those last moments of lucidity. She had wanted to protect it, she had sheltered it with her body, she had carried it into the darkness with full intentions to emerge on the other side with both of them whole and unharmed. If she had been alone, if she had not had an anchor, she would have collapsed, surely, never to stand.

“Am I to live here with you, then?” The thought softens her insides, a pleasant sensation.

The snake cocks its head. “If you do not wish to, I can return you to Earth, anywhere you'd like, any time. Perhaps you'd enjoy the era of religious fanaticism. I believe you would make a fine nun.” She doesn't know what a nun is, but it is a mocked thing, from the snake's tone. An undesirable thing.

“Perhaps you would be, as well. You always did respect god's actions, didn't you?” Her fingers mimic her lips, in a curving motion round her cup of water.

“About as much as you did.”

* * *

 

As in the other world, she soon loses sense of time passing. The snake remains with her constantly, always within touching distance, always giving her food. Good food too, ones she would recognize – fruits, vegetables, the nuts and seeds of which she had grown fond. Somehow the snake knows what she would like, and always has it nearby. Blankets when she is cold. Cooling devices when she is too warm. Clothing when she regains enough strength to stand. Decorations for the walls, a steady stream of conversation, a friendly face in Elizabeth who daily speaks with her and checks her health.

And through it all, they teach her about the world, about things like cities and swamps and lands built of ice. They teach her to read, bring images (identified as _photographs_ near immediately) of what hell looks like. Vastly different in every photo, it steals her breath and ignites a longing in her throat, to see this world where none of its inhabitants fear god.

It is the first gesture of kindness and goodwill she has received without something being expected in return, and it hits her all of a sudden like a falling tree when the snake speaks casually of what it had for dinner last night, a topic that never makes Eve panic, as she is wont to do.

The snake stops. It must have noticed her hands, fists, clutching the blankets. Trembling minutely. “Eve?”

“I never said thank you.” She doesn't look up. She refuses to look up. She stares at her hands and wills them to obey her. “For rescuing me, I mean. Giving me knowledge. I never – I never thanked you properly.”

Against her wishes, almost, her head raises to look at the snake. “I don't even know your name.” Her voice is a whispering wet graveyard and she swallows the death down. “Do you – do you have one? Adam named all his creatures, I don't know--”

The snake has left its seat to rest on the floor. Its voice is the opposite of hers, high and mighty. “I am not a snake. I am a person who chose this form so you would not recognize me before it was safe. So god would not recognize me.” Light flashes round her like her tail had done round Eve's throat. It blinds her.

When she can see again the snake is gone and in her place is a woman. She's nothing god and Adam both had told Eve women were meant to be: tall, dark, muscled, her eyes commanding respect. Eve pushes to her feet and finds that, though she herself is tall, she's still shorter.

“Lilith,” says Eve, reverently. “You were Adam's first.”

“Sadly not his last,” says Lilith, the serpentine. Her movements are not unlike that of the snake's; Eve finds herself becoming quickly at ease with her, though for all intents and purposes she's just met her.

The way she reaches forward to grasp Eve's hand is indeed recognizable: it's a slow languid movement, like the wrapping of the snake around her shoulders. Eve thinks maybe it is less shyness and more Lilith's way of letting her pull away if she wishes; perhaps it is to let Eve know that here, she has a choice. Here she need not let another touch her unless she wants them to.

And she does want Lilith to touch her. She meets her hand halfway, fingers wrapping around one another. Her skin is dry and soft. Eve relaxes.

Lilith motions to the door. “Would you like to see what's outside? Are you ready?”

Eve nods.

* * *

 

The language Lilith had given her, while still useful, is hugely inadequate. She recognizes things, like buildings or streets or lights, but others are completely out of grasp. For one, there are people walking around, some looking busy, others looking like they're just wandering.

“There are so many people,” Eve says, touching the folds of her hospital gown self-consciously as Lilith guides her through the – what is the word? Crowd. (Lilith summons a long coat and, positioning them so her body guards Eve from the gaze of others, shows her how to put it on and button it, to hide her clothing, what little of it there is.)

“Yes,” Lilith says, her head ducked down to meet Eve's eyes, her fingers pausing on the top button. “The world here is not like heaven, as I said before. It is outside the realm of time and thus all souls who will come here are here already. It changes, but the people, largely, do not. You saw photos of them.”

“Yes, but seeing them here in person is different.” It's difficult to explain. How does she tell Lilith of the strange sensation that is seeing a thing stagnant on paper and then seeing it in real life, close enough to touch? Lilith seems to know already though, perhaps went through it herself, because she only smiles and pats her head comfortingly. This time, when they continue walking, it is at a slower pace, with Eve closer to Lilith than she had been before. An equal, not pulled along, here of her own choice, unlike everyone else, if her understanding is correct.

“You said Lucifer punishes sinners. Why is she letting them live so freely?”

“I am afraid I did not explain it properly enough. Here, let me get you something to drink and I'll explain it better.” She opens the door to a cafe. It's similar to the one she had seen in Lilith's images, unexpectedly warm, with deep colors that, somehow, make her feel safe. It's quieter than the outside and smells better as well. Eve sits at a table by the window to watch the people while Lilith gets their drinks.

“I thought it too soon for you to try coffee, so here. Hot chocolate.” A steaming white mug, Lilith's matching one, their hands on the small table almost touching. Knees that do.

“Can you explain it now, please? I've never known anything else, I don't know what to think of all this, this – _chaos_.”

Lilith looks both amused and sympathetic. “Heaven is meant to be paradise. Yes? That's what they told you there, surely. That's what they told me. And somehow Eden is also paradise.”

“Eden?”

“The name of the garden.”

“Oh.”

“Paradise, I've found, is largely subjective. Some might find a place like this cafe to be paradise, while others might think it stuffy or boring. It's an individual thing.” Lilith stirs her coffee thoughtfully. “When god spoke of heaven to me, it was in singular. There is only one version of heaven, that is, existing purely in him. To join him. Like an ocean, I believe the metaphor was. Complete submission, a horror for most if not all people.”

Eve wraps her fingers around her mug and lifts it to her lips. The hot chocolate is less hot now, pleasantly warm actually; strange, she thinks, she's only had cold drinks before. The water in the garden had always been cold, unless you intend to swim in it, then it becomes warm. Once you exit it's cold again. The drink is sweet and soothing. She drinks it quickly.

“Going with that line of thought, I believe that when god said hell is a _punishment_ , he meant that to be away from him is punishment enough. To be apart from god – can even Lucifer dream up something worse? was the implied statement.”

“So hell is just--”

“Freedom.” By now Lilith's coffee, too, is gone. “Do you want more hot chocolate?” She does, but not enough to get up and have to leave. This conversation is like none she's had before.

“No, I'm good, I'm overstimulated I think.” At Lilith's worried look she adds, quickly, “But I want to stay. I'm fine, really.” And she is, just she's becoming tired sooner than she is used to. Bone-tired, a deep exhaustion that permeates to her core. An exhaustion that had begun the moment she was created fully-grown, meant only to serve and please Adam. That servitude had worn her to the bone, had thrown her into survival mode, until the garden looked colorless, until she spent all her days just trying to get away and find a way out.

Then the sinning, then the crossing of the desert, then this, so completely different from the emptiness of the sands that it makes her mind feel like it's turned inside out.

“If heaven is stagnant and hell is the opposite, does that mean that there's other parts of it? Parts that look different?”

“Yes. Country lands, wet lands, some beautiful, some terrifying. Great palaces. It's as vast as the world god thinks he governs."

“Can we see them?”

Lilith releases a breath Eve hadn't known she was holding. She reaches over and gently curves her little finger around Eve's index finger.

“Yes. Yes, Eve, we can see them.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it okay to post two chapters a day or


	3. a violent fragrance

They leave the cafe, the world turning into a blur to Eve, all of it adding up until she really _does_ feel completely overstimulated, the only grounding sensation that of Lilith's arm around her shoulders. She leads her to a part of the city that is quieter, somehow, cleaner looking, more modern. The buildings less brick and more white, more window. Lilith heads for the biggest one. If Eve were more able, she'd be looking around curiously; as it is, she's fighting to stay awake.

It turns out to be an apartment building for hell's elite. For those who serve directly under Lucifer, or in Lilith's case, rule alongside her. (Eve is dimly aware of Lilith explaining that it's not so much _rule_ _alongside_ as _serve no one_.)

She has the entire top floor to herself.

* * *

 

The room Eve wakes up in is only moderately familiar. Large, with floor to ceiling windows on one wall, a bed so big and soft she's reluctant to get up. A note pinned to the pillow beside her, reading  _I'm_ _in the kitchen._ _Follow the rose petals when you're up_. And it seems horribly romantic (no matter how foreign a concept that is) to find a beautiful white dress laid out for her, to put it on and see there really _is_ a trail of rose petals leading out of her room and into the wide hallway.

Or it would be romantic, if Eve weren't so hesitant to step on them and instead waddles slowly after them with feet on either side of the trail.

The kitchen is the one Lilith had shown her in the infirmary (a word learned in the cafe). Beautifully furnished, as modern looking as the rest of the home Eve's seen; yet somehow near ugly in comparison to the woman making breakfast.

Her hair is wild and unbrushed, hanging down around her shoulders so Eve can see the full length of it. It had been pinned up yesterday and looked quite lovely, but now it's on a whole different level. Eve wants to wrap it around her wrist.

Lilith wears only a flimsy robe, soft looking, tied neatly around her waist. She looks more divine than any angel, more divine than perhaps even the creation of the universe; she imagines that, had she been there for the first sunset with Lilith, she would have missed the sun; and as cheesy as it sounds, it's achingly true.

“Are you making me breakfast?” Lilith only laughs in response.

“Of course. Aren't you hungry?”

Eve nods, knowing somehow that though she can't see Eve, she'll still know, and sits at the small breakfast table. “No one's made me breakfast before. I mean, Adam did sometimes, but only if he was in the mood for it. And always some kind of meat. I don't--” she inhales deeply, to make sure, “smell any meat.”

“That's because I don't eat meat. I'm making you some vegetables.”

Eve wrinkles her nose. “I didn't like most of the vegetables in the garden.”

“Neither did I, love, that's because they were uncooked. Trust me, I can make _anything_ taste good.”

Eve hides her reddening face with her hands. Silence, but not an uncomfortable one; they had often sat like this, when Lilith had been the snake, just enjoying one another's company; and Eve tries with difficulty to fight down her blush.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Uh, yes, I did, thank you for helping me, I don't even remember getting into bed actually, I must have been really out of it.”

“That's because you fell asleep in the elevator. I carried you to your bed.”

“Oh!”

Eve is spared having to think of a better response when Lilith turns off the stove and slides the food onto two plates, setting them down at the table and sitting across from Eve. “I think you'll like it. It's one of my favorites, personally.”

Eve stares at it. The vegetables are different from the ones she had tried, in her attempts to find something better than the meat Adam is so fond of. She had settled for seeds, nuts, and berries, but even though a few of these she knows she's had before, and disliked, they smell delicious. She picks up a flat circular green one. “What is this?”

“A cucumber. I didn't fry it, some of them are fresh. Try putting some salt on it.”

“Salt?”

And breakfast turns into another lesson.

* * *

 

Eve's second time seeing the city is considerably better than seeing it the first time. She's a little more familiar with things, and she's seeing even the unfamiliar things for a second time and so they feel as though she does know them, even if she needs to ask Lilith for explanations. Her clothing, chosen by Lilith and somehow suiting her perfectly, gives her a bit of protection against people recognizing her, or worse, recognizing her near complete innocence.

There are no flames. There is light, in some places; there is dark, in some places. There is cruelty here, but nothing that touches her. Lilith keeps her well away from the dangerous areas, she assumes, takes her to the brightly lit places with well dressed people who never step on her feet, even accidentally. Sometimes men try to stop her and ask where she came from (what Lilith had said yesterday is true, there are never new people, except now) but Lilith wraps an arm around her shoulders and raises her chin regally: if they do not recognize her by this alone, they do when she speaks. Eve imagines Lilith's voice booming from the sky like a god's, imagines herself alone in a beautiful garden, naked, laughing; and the sounds of Lilith's footsteps echoing closer. She imagines the ground shaking from Lilith's approach. Imagines how wonderful it would have been if she had had Lilith with her rather than Adam.

She mentions this casually one day, the two of them sitting on a bench together and watching a river, the sunlight dazzling on the water. Lilith inclines her head but says nothing for several moments, and Eve nearly forgets what she had confessed, losing herself in the beauty of the river (there had only been ponds in the garden, waterfalls, nothing like this).

“There are gardens here,” says Lilith finally. Eve's head turns to look at her in surprise.

“Do you mean like--”

“Not all of them. I don't think you're ready to go to one that is too similar to Eden. There are others we can see.” She isn't, she thinks, ready to see it again. Seeing Adam in the desert had been pain enough, reminder enough of the things he had done to her, had said to her, had forced her to do. She dreams about it nearly every night, and the only thing that makes her think that perhaps she can be saved or at least protected from him is the memory of the snake, wrapping around her throat tightly enough to remind her she isn't alone, and she wakes up coughing, her own hands wrapped around her throat to feel it again.

During the day she's with Lilith, but at night she's on her own, and she still doesn't know how to do the things Lilith can do. Magic things, brilliant things; Lilith was created as she was, wasn't she? But no, she recalls; Lilith is Adam's equal, created the same way he was, at the same time. Eve had been created from Adam. She is half Adam's strength while Lilith is his only true physical match.

Even so, there must be _something_ she can do.

* * *

 

They start with a garden. One quite unlike Eden, which had been wild and untamed and unspeakably beautiful. This one has stone pathways and benches and fountains, has clearly planted flowers, trees wrapped in orbs of light that remain lit on their own. Butterflies. A breeze that teases playfully at the bottom of Eve's dress.

They begin slowly, Lilith giving her time she needs. Time to get used to the familiar scents, the sight of flowers she recognizes, had slept in, had woven into her hair. Trees she had climbed to hide from Adam.

When they are nearly halfway through Eve finally manages to shed some of the memories that had been clinging to her, able to finally let go of Lilith's hand and fall softly to her knees to smell some flowers that had been her favorites back in Eden.

“Violets,” Lilith says, an amused undercurrent to the word that Eve doesn't understand. “One of my favorites too.”

Eve wraps her fingers around the stems and brings them to her nose with reverence, with the pleased familiarity she had had before coming here, before she had been forced to –

one of the flowers snaps. She's broken it. Crumpled petals in her hands, a fitting crown for a holy woman cast out of her temple. No, not cast out; left to become her own god. Still, it doesn't lessen the sting; and it doesn't make the broken flower any easier to look at, or to feel in her hand.

She feels more than sees Lilith kneel down beside her, a hand lifting to – take the flowers, probably, but Eve's fingers close, crushing them further. She inhales and smells ash.

“Did he ever – with you? Did he make you?” Lilith's inhale is sharper and deeper than hers had been, surprised; perhaps wounded.

Every second without response is a thorn in Eve's palm. A circle of spikes emerging from her skull, a nail through her legs. Something sharp and difficult to name.

“No.” The word is final and dropped like an explosive. “No, he never touched me. I didn't want to – I refused to submit. I am his equal, and so are you, and when he would not respect me I left and came here. Like you did.”

“But that's not what happened,” Eve whispers. “I didn't leave when he tried to touch me. I didn't know how. I let him – I let him so he wouldn't do worse. Then you showed up, and the apple, and then the desert, and I--” her fist so tight her knuckles have gone pale. Crushed flower petals bleeding out the sides and falling to the ground.

Her head ducks, eyes closed as tightly as she can make them, she turns away from Lilith. How can she look at her now, after admitting to this weakness? Lilith had known right away what he was capable of, what she herself was capable of, she had known the fact of death without eating from the tree. Lilith had formed her own knowledge rather than taking it from a different source, and that makes hers more powerful and ancient than Eve's. Everything more powerful than Eve. Lions, Adam, even her own dreams.

Lilith's arms wrap around her, pulling her in. Eve's head comes to rest just below her throat, low enough to hear her heartbeat, to feel the warmth of her body. Her arms thick and rough, circling her like a viper, and Eve has never felt so safe.

“Don't blame yourself. Do _not_ blame yourself. Adam is a monster. He has no respect for anything other than himself--”

“That's not true! He fears you. You saw how he reacted the last time he saw him, he wouldn't even come close. Only because you were there.”

Lilith sighs. She lifts one hand and Eve tenses, expecting to be pushed away, but instead feels a hand curling gently through her hair, petting her like one might soothe an animal. It makes her feel like a child; but at the same time it's immensely comforting. How strange it is to sit before this powerful, terrible person and feel them comb through your hair. It's similar to the first time the lions rolled over onto their backs before her, asking for belly rubs: a powerful creature, made gentle. Turned soft for her.

They sit like this for what seems like hours. Lilith's hand must be numb by now, but she never once falters. She holds Eve until she pulls away herself, until her breathing has calmed and the tears have stopped and she feels as though all the water in her body will remain safely there.

Eve sits back on her heels, wiping her eyes, embarrassed. “I'm sorry about that, I didn't mean to cry.” She looks down at the crushed petals and sighs. “It was the flowers, I think.”

“Seeing them or crushing them?”

“Crushing them.”

“Ah.” Lilith scoops the petals up into her palm and blows on them gently. They glow with golden angel light and transform back into their original state, a perfect violet. More beautiful than before, somehow; Eve's lips part in awe. “Here,” Lilith says, tucking it behind Eve's ear, her fingers lightly brushing her hair away from her face, “this one won't fall apart. I promise.”

The action is so sudden and so tender, Lilith's fingers lingering on her skin, Eve can't help it; her lips spread wide in a smile, the first real one she can remember having, and it feels so good she bursts into sunny laughter that has even Lilith smiling just as wide. The sun dips low over the horizon and for a moment, one pure moment, it looks as though all that light is smiling along with them.

They finish walking through the garden, Eve unable to keep from touching her fingertips to the violet, their hands intertwined. When they return to Lilith's home, part ways in the hall, enter their rooms alone, Eve feels one piercing stab of loneliness until she delicately sets her violet down on the pillow beside her and discovers that, somehow, Lilith had enchanted it so that it glows.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> casually references sappho // also i think we'll be meeting lucifer next chapter!!


	4. an undying ache

“Do you want to meet Lucifer?” Lilith asks the next morning over breakfast, eyeing Eve cautiously over the top of her glass of orange juice. “She's interested in meeting you.”

“Why?” She can't imagine why anyone would be interested in her; aside from where she comes from, she finds herself to be ordinary. As ordinary as a person like her can be, that is.

“She wants to know how you're doing … and she's hoping you can help her with something.” Lilith sets down her glass and pushes her plate away with one finger.

“Oh. She wants to know about the garden?” The only thing she has to offer, she knows. Perhaps if she refuses, she will be made to leave, to return to the garden. The thought makes her tense up, imitating Lilith in pushing her plate toward the center of the table. She'd shake her hair out in frustration were she not afraid that to do so would shake off the violet she's carefully braided into her hair.

“There are things you don't know yet, Eve,” Lilith says, slowly. “Though this is one form of afterlife, battles still rage. Wars must still be fought. Knowledge of the garden would provide an invaluable upper hand, one Lucifer greatly desires.” She stands and collects their plates. “Of course, if you aren't ready, you need not push yourself. I can hold her off for as long as you need.”

And that's what ends up being Eve's primary motivation. Lilith has taken care of her, has fed her, clothed her, comforted her, _sheltered_ her – and now finally there is something she can do, and Lilith still tells her not to push herself, tells her it doesn't matter as much as her own comfort does. It breaks Eve's heart, to hear those words. _Not until you're ready. I will protect you_. It both breaks her and strengthens her; she makes a decision.

Eve pushes her chair back as she stands, brows set in determination. “I will help.” She hopes her voice doesn't sound as shaky as she feels.

At the sink, Lilith smiles sadly. Eve walks over to help her wash the dishes, touching Lilith's arm softly as she moves into place beside her.

Another smile, this one less sad.

* * *

 

Lucifer's domain is terrible, and incredible, and perhaps everything it is meant to be. A fiery pit. Red skies, fountains of blood, ground that trembles like the breath of a great beast. It's nothing like the rest of hell, and Eve says so as she and Lilith approach a palace that seems, somehow, to be made of blood.

“It's for ambiance. Lucifer is terribly dramatic, you'll understand when you meet her.” The ground sparks under the boots Lilith had gifted her. She moves closer to her companion and draws a shaky breath.

“Will there be others? Other people? Or does Lucifer rule alone?”

“There are others, yes. I don't know if they'll be here though. Bee probably will be, though. Beelzebub. She's Lucifer's lover, I suppose if this were like Earth they'd be married.”

It's difficult to imagine these people, one powerful enough to rule this entire world, she must be equal to god, to rule a world the way he does; and her lover too – for who would take a lover weaker than them? The thought fills her with shame.

The inside of the palace is the same as the outside, but more extravagant, and more human. Red fabrics, red stones, things that appear natural but are probably not. Perhaps it's the tears of saints, or the blood of sinners; Eve can hardly comprehend such a place. Cannot understand it, can't see how someone could be here every day of their life and not go mad.

The throne room is incredible. High arched ceilings and windows that look out on flames. A floor that looks like moving lava but is actually solid. Lilith enters as regally as any queen could, but Eve hesitates, and lets Lilith go first. This is as different from Eden as you can get, she thinks, for some reason filled with relief at the thought.

The throne is empty until they near it.

A woman with red skin, horns, seemingly taller than even Lilith. She carries a flaming trident.

“I see what you mean about her being dramatic,” Eve whispers before she can stop herself. She blushes immediately and makes to cover her face; but Lucifer laughs, and tilts her trident down so it is no longer aimed at them.

“You've been talking about me, then,” she says, voice deep and booming. It feels like it comes from everywhere. Lilith allows a small smile.

“Of course. I would not let her come in blind. Lucy, this is Eve. Eve, this is Lucy.”

“Lucy?” A cute nickname for the queen of hell; it lays to rest most of her worries and fears, and she's able to finally see the situation as it is rather than through fear-tinted lenses. Lucy is truly as Lilith had said; a woman who, as powerful as Lilith, can surely change her form; yet she chooses the one most people envision when they think of her. It's amusing, and interesting, and a little soothing to be with a devil who is so utterly _human_ , in a way.

“That is my nickname. Only a select few are unafraid of using it; you may use it as well, if you should choose to do so. If you don't object, there is someone else who wanted to meet you.” Eve nods her consent and Lucy waves her trident in a way that seems like a beckoning motion. A pillar of smoke appears beside her throne and when it dissipates there is a dark-skinned woman in its place.

The first thing Eve notices is her wings. They seem to change, or morph, as smoke does when you look at it; or clouds. Sometimes appearing as the white wings of angels, others appearing like the wings of a butterfly, or yet more forms: that of demons, birds, scaled dragon's wings.

“Bee,” Lilith says in greeting. “How goes the training?”

“The young ones are eager to learn flight; less eager to learn techniques. Eager to earn their wings; and quite energetic.”

“Not too energetic for you, though, I suppose,” Lucy says, laughing, raising one hand for Bee to kiss. “Bee, this is Eve. Eve, this is Beelzebub. She's my second in command and teacher of flight to young demons.”

“And your mate, you left that out,” Bee teases.

“Mm. Yes. Anyway, Eve, did Lilith tell you why I wanted to see you?”

“She didn't go into details,” Eve says hesitantly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I think you want to know where the garden is though, right?”

“Yes. Among other things.” Lucy stands. “Come, let's talk where it's more comfortable.” She leads them to a room that appears to be used for holding meetings; maps cover one wall, as well as a large bookshelf stuffed with books and what looks suspiciously like human skulls, and a long table in the center. Eve leans in to inspect the oddities more closely, but Lilith directs her attention elsewhere, and Eve has little chance to see what other strange things the room might hold.

They sit at the table and talk for what feels like hours. Lucifer wants to know everything Eve does about the garden: how big it is, where Adam likes to be, what kind of angels does god place as guards, what weaponry do they use, has she ever seen them in combat? How did she get out?

The questions wear her out. At one point, when she mentions the flaming swords, Lucy and Bee make eye contact; Bee says, quietly, “Astaroth would be able to handle that, easily,” and Lucy says in response, “Let's hope it does not come to battle quite yet.” And Eve is thoroughly lost.

* * *

 

“We must meet somewhere more pleasant next time,” Lilith says, just before she and Eve make their exit. “Perhaps a garbage dump, or Eden itself, hmm?” Lucy playfully gives her a glare, Bee's hand snaking round her waist; the pairs leave one another, Lucy and Bee returning to their council room. Eve and Lilith exit the palace in comfortable silence, until Lilith speaks.

“Are you hungry?”

“ _Starved,_ ” Eve says.

“I know a nice place, let's go get dinner.”

Eve thinks leaving this realm is altogether more enjoyable than entering it had been.

* * *

 

Lilith selects a restaurant that looks like a small castle, the medieval kind, with a long line of people waiting to gain entrance. She leads Eve to the front of the line and, after giving her name, the hostess manages to find an empty table that hadn't been there previously.

“Their pasta is good here,” says Lilith. “I quite like their salads as well. I have heard they cook their meat perfectly, but I've never tasted it so I can't give you a good recommendation for that.”

“I'll just have what you're having,” Eve says, and closes her menu. It appears to be written in Latin, for some reason. Lilith laughs softly.

“It's a more traditional place. They like the hellfire aesthetic.” It's true; they've enchanted lanterns to cast long shadows across the floors and ceilings that twist into varied grotesque shapes; and the waiters all have red skin and horns as Lucy had, though theirs are considerably smaller. Hers had been nearly twice the size of her head.

“The people who rule,” Eve begins, “are they truly evil?”

“According to whose standards?

She blinks, taken aback. “I just mean--”

“I know what you mean. You've been fed the same definition of evil as I was. And certainly there are things that are unquestionably evil; for example, the things that happened to you in Eden. But if god saw those things, knew they were happening, and did nothing to stop it – doesn't that make him evil according to his own standards?”

“I'm not sure if that's entirely true,” Eve retorts, “he wasn't there.” Defending him sets a low, painful burning in her chest.

“Does he not claim to be _everywhere_ , to be the ultimate being, one who _is_ all things and _in_ all things? That god is flawed. Did you not wonder once why he put that tree there so obviously, and told you not to eat of it, while making sure the fruit grew low enough to reach easily?”

Eve stares at Lilith, wide-eyed. “Are you saying he _wanted_ me to eat the apple? Why?”

“Maybe he wanted to give you an escape route, if you want to give him the benefit of the doubt. Or perhaps he was unhappy with your performance and pushed you out the door so he could start again.”

“He's going to make another person for Adam?”

“I'd wager he already _has_.”

Whatever exclamation Eve had been about to release is silenced momentarily by the arrival of their meal, some kind of soup; she looks at it listlessly, abruptly without strength enough to even lift her spoon.

She is presented all over again with her own weakness, her own failings of personality and strength of character. Eve is a weak woman, perhaps made that way, perhaps forcibly turned; cause doesn't matter much, anymore. What matters is only the fact of her weakness. A fact thrown in her face every day, first with Adam, who chose to violate and manipulate her, and now Lilith, who does so accidentally, by comparison with her strength and generosity. Where Lilith is iron, Eve can only be silk, at best. Weak as the web of a spider. As temporary as a bird sitting at rest on a branch, Eve is nothing extraordinary. Less than ordinary, if such a thing exists.

And now, not only is her own weakness called into conversation, but the weakness of another woman. A woman who would not exist if not for her, true; but who would also not suffer as she surely is if Eve hadn't left. She had known she is perhaps the worst sort of woman, but hadn't thought that she was a woman who left suffering to others while she seeks redemption for only herself.

She picks up her spoon, trembling so hard it drops into the soup and splatters over the table and her dress. Her hands, fisted, do not stop shaking even when she pounds them down into the wood of the table.

“I can't do it. I can't let someone else suffer in my place.” Looking up, she sees Lilith is looking at her in shock, or concern, or some other pitying emotion only the truly strong can produce.

“I have to go back,” Eve says, standing so fast her chair falls over. “Now! We need to help her, I can't let her suffer the way I did!”

Lilith reacts calmly. She takes the napkin that had been folded over her lap and sets it delicately down on the table, her spoon on top of it; she stands and pushes in her chair; she rounds the table and sets Eve's chair upright, then pushes it into place like she had done her own. Then, her motions still smooth and ultimately gentle, takes hold of Eve's arm and steers her out of the restaurant, away from prying eyes.

Outside, the line still long, everyone looking at them, looking at the stains on Eve's dress and the wild look in her eyes; and she's faced with another horrifying truth about herself: she thirsts for power.

Lilith takes her other arm and, with a clicking sound, a pyre erupts around them. When it fades, they're back in her home.

“Come,” Lilith murmurs, “let's clean you off before we go making any rash decisions.”

“Rash!” Eve yanks her arms away. “Wild! Imbalanced! Is that how you think of me, you think me a thing that needs chained up? Why, you could have left me in the garden if you thought so!”

Lilith stands still and allows Eve this bout of rage, allows her to wail against her verbally like wind against stone; and she does not move, no matter how many centuries of ocean Eve could think of bringing against her. She endures, and Eve rages thunderously, and she endures.

“This woman, we have to rescue her, we must, there's no other conclusion to come to! If I am worth rescuing, then why not her?”

“It will be difficult,” Lilith says finally, seeing it safe to once again lift a hand and wrap it around the bare skin of Eve's arm, just above her elbow. It's a sensitive spot, her inner elbow; Lilith rubs it soothingly with her thumb and Eve melts into the touch, just for a moment.

“How difficult?”

“There are certainly better guards this time. Not even mentioning the angels with flaming swords, there are those in hiding, to guard her. This would be the third time, if we got her; god must have set precautions. He must know we will come for her.”

“We will?” Eve's heart swells. “Oh – Lilith – I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it, I just – I didn't know what to think, or say, and I'm sorry if I hurt you.”

Lilith's chin lowers and Eve can see her eyes more clearly. Wounded, perhaps, distantly; but whole, and unguarded. “I am fine. I understand why you reacted so. It's my fault for telling you like that, I should have been more sensitive.”

“You're always sensitive to me,” Eve whispers. “Always looking out for me. Why?”

And Lilith says nothing, just pulls Eve into her arms and embraces her tightly. It isn't an answer, not quite, but it feels like it could be one, if Eve only knew how to read it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting two chapters a day just because i can #extra


	5. glory in reverse

In Lucy's council room, Eve sits at the table and watches Lucy in front of her maps, searching for the garden.

“Tell me again what you remember.”

“It's surrounded by desert, I don't know how much. I walked for days. It can move.”

“It can move...” Lucy's tone turns introspective, tapping her chin and seemingly forgetting that she holds an uncapped black marker in that hand; she dots her chin several times before moving to mark the map once more. “We can assume that he moves it regularly to avoid being found. Going with that logic, we don't know if you happened upon it accidentally or if it was moved in your way purposely.”

“Adam was waiting for me, so I think it was on purpose.”

“Adam was – ?” Lucy turns to look at her; Eve does her best not to look at her chin. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Lilith was there too if you want confirmation. When he didn't get what he want he made the garden move.”

“Explain.”

“He lifted his arms and it moved, it could have been a signal though, I'm not sure.”

And so it goes. Lilith and Bee had gone to recruit members for their newly formed, currently unnamed team. They have one sole purpose: finding Eden and rescuing a woman they know nothing about. Lilith had told her last night that they had found a witch and used a spell to see Eve in the garden, to plan their rescue; Lucy and Bee had done the spell as soon as Lilith told them of Eve's wish to save her, and discovered there were protections in place to prevent such things.

Still, they had not given up hope; Lucy and Eve had remained behind to rehash what they spoke of last time they met, to no results. The garden remains elusive.

* * *

 

“We're still looking for members; but Astaroth was interested, as we knew she would be,” Bee says by way of introduction. “Star, this is Eve, you know Lucy.”

“You're the second wife,” Astaroth says, looking Eve up and down. “The first one who needed rescuing.”

“Well – I suppose,” Eve says, trying to pretend she isn't a little intimidated.

“Astaroth is a fire witch and a dragon tamer by profession. We thought she'd help with the flaming swords.”

“Everyone knows swords are your specialty, Bee,” Astaroth replies, her voice dry and near mocking; Eve must be missing something, because Bee barks out a laugh that drags a smile out of Lucy. Lilith sits down beside Eve, who suddenly feels less intimidated.

“Are there no others, then, to join our cause?” Lucy sets down her marker and approaches them; Bee meets her halfway and rubs her thumb over Lucy's chin. “I thought my troops to be more loyal.”

“We are busy with war, your majesty,” Astaroth says. “The troops are fighting daily in your name.”

“And do we win?”

“As many as we lose. The balance remains equal.”

Eve shifts in her seat, crossing her legs and pulling her dress down when it bunches up over her thighs. “What war? Why are we fighting, if we aren't evil?”

“There is no good or evil in war, Eve,” Lucy says, looking down on her with a pitying expression. “We fight to defend ourselves, nothing more. God seeks to take over this world; he wants to control it himself. He disagrees with the way I run things.” The way she gives her people freedom, Eve thinks. God must want this to be a place of true punishment, a place where sinners come to suffer for all eternity. Some do, she knows, some do suffer; but only the justly deserving. The rapists, the murderers, the horrible beings whose actions shock even the cruelest demons.

But the others? Those who sin by choice of love, by choice of happiness that ill suits god's idea of a perfect world? They are given freedom to choose how their death is, after their own life had little in the way of choice.

“How can you win such a war,” she murmurs, staring down at her hands, the palms that should be etched with divinity but are not. “How can you defeat a god who created an entire universe?”

“You don't,” Bee says. “You replace him with someone better.”

“As if that's any easier, though,” Lilith says, interrupting Eve's inspection of her palms by taking them in her hands. “For now I think we should just focus on finding out as much as we can about this person, and then rescuing them.”

“He may have finally made Adam a male companion,” Lucy says, turning back to look at her maps. “I've got my witches scouring the Earth for traces of magic, but there's nothing. They must not be using magic, or we're missing something.”

And they are; it hits Eve like a train (she's recently seen one of those, it made her very excited); she stands abruptly – a newly acquired habit, it seems – and stares at the maps while everyone else stares at her. “You're right,” she breathes, “we _are_ missing something. We're looking for a place that rests on Earth like human cities do. But we can't find it – because it _isn't there_. Eden is actually heaven – Lilith told me all about it, she said heaven is to exist in god purely – when I ate the apple I couldn't stay because I didn't have purity anymore – do you see?”

Silence all around; Lucy's marker drops.

“Well,” Astaroth says loudly, “good luck breaking into _heaven_.”

* * *

 

The only problem with Eve's theory is that she desperately wishes she were wrong. If Eden were a regular garden, as regular as it could be, it would be simple to break in. Simple in the sense that it's been done before and surely must be done again; but knowledge of heaven taints it, turns it into an iron walled fortress with flames all around.

“We should assume it has the same level of protection as hell does,” Lucy says to Bee and Astaroth. Lilith and Eve sit at the back of the table, going over together everything they know.

“How did you break in?” Eve asks, staring at the maps spread over the table and doing her best not to tap her marker against her chin as Lucy had.

“I just transformed myself into a snake and blocked my energies, then went to the last place I knew it to be. God must have thought that I would wish to come back, he didn't realize I was wishing to steal something.” Eve laughs.

“Then … do you think – ? He would open the garden if I expressed a desire to return?”

Lilith stares at her. Eyes wide and impossibly angry at the thought of Eve returning, she takes the marker from Eve's hand and in one swift motion smacks it over her head. Not hard, though Eve does wince; just hard enough to, presumably, knock some sense into her.

“You did it for me,” Eve argues, “why can I not do it for her?”

“You are – you are – _mm_. You are not trained in magic as I am, you would be unable to leave. It would swallow you up and never spit you out.” Lilith's voice sounds as though she's fighting to keep it level.

“Then teach me magic! As the first women, are we not made with power in our veins? If you can be so powerful surely I can be, too!”

Lilith slams her hands down on the table. The others glance at them briefly before continuing their discussion. Eve summons all her resolve and stays calm. “I am not a child,” she says, voice low. “I am a grown woman. I may not be a wise or cynical as you, but I am no stranger to cruelty or the harm a person can inflict on another. I don't see why you think this will be impossible for me.”

“Because it will break you.” Eve's heart stops. “You are a person who was born into cruelty, a place that should have been paradise but was an ugly reality covered in flowers and sweet scents.” Lilith's eyes shift to the violet still in Eve's hair. “You should … you deserve the chance to keep your softness for as long as you like. I don't want this to harden you, I – just crushing the flower yesterday hurt you, how can seeing Adam again be any different?”

“I saw him in the desert,” Eve whispers, not trusting her voice. “I was fine, remember?”

“We were together then, that's different. You'll be all alone if you do this.”

“Then come with me.”

* * *

 

Eve hadn't known how a statement like that would set in motion a dizzying whir of activity. It took some convincing, but Lilith agreed to go, and to let Eve come along, as long as they stuck together. In retrospect it hadn't taken much to argue that she should be there; looking back on it, she wonders if perhaps even Lilith fears returning. It had been different with Eve, probably: Lilith had been able to watch her before making an entry, to learn her routes, to figure out just where she should enter the garden to best find Eve before being found herself.

It had been deceptively simple, that first time.

But now, with Eve on the other side of things, it seems incredibly difficult. Lucy refuses to authorize any attempt to return until they have more knowledge of what they're going into; after a long discussion, they decide to send one of their best soldiers to the last location Eve and Lilith had seen it, in the hopes they will be able to secretly observe the inhabitants of the garden.

They wait. They wait, and talk, and Lilith slowly teaches Eve magic. Simple things at first; how to change the colors of things (Eve accidentally turns her own hair green, to the great amusement of Astaroth), how to open things, how to touch things and feel the innate magic in them.

To no one's surprise she takes a great liking to flower magic, particularly violets. Lucy and Bee laugh the same as Lilith had when they hear those are her favorite flowers, and Eve hesitates to ask for an explanation, given that it seems greatly embarrassing.

She also grows more accustomed to life here, learning more of this world every day. She's soon able to order for herself at restaurants without embarrassing herself, able to leave their (yes, she's begun to think of Lilith's home as her own) home and buy herself a hot chocolate, and sit by the window to watch the people. Strange, they are, with customs and habits unknown or unknowable to her. Luckily none of them have yet recognized her, and she's able to speak with people as one of them, rather than as Eve, Second Wife of Adam, Woman of the Rib. To them she is only Eve, a strange woman who delights in strange things, as if she has never seen them before.

It all culminates in her nearly forgetting her goal, to save the woman who is in the place where Eve faced her cruelest enemy, survived the most horrifying things, and ultimately stole god's knowledge for herself.

The demon soldier returns breathless three months after she had been dispatched. “Your Majesty, I bring information of the garden and its inhabitants, as you requested.” She is whisked into the council room, the others summoned. Only when they are all there is she given a chance to tell them what she's seen.

“There is a woman, as you suspected,” the soldier confirms; Eve's heart drops. “They call her _Yrolg_.”

“Glory in reverse,” says Lucy. “That would make her--”

“Shame?” Bee looks at her mate for confirmation, who shrugs.

“Who can tell what he's thinking. Go on,” Lucy nods to the soldier, who returns the motion.

“She is a small woman. Very small; I would put her at only five feet. Her hair is like sunlight and she smiled often at first; but the longer I watched, the less so. She fears Adam as Eve does. I'm afraid this confirms the continuation of the abuse.”

Eve lets out a ragged breath and turns her head away. She was right, then, to be so adamant about rescuing this woman. If they don't, she will be trapped much the same as Eve herself was; only this time, with no way out. No carefully placed divine door in case of failure. No low-hanging fruits to give her wisdom. And no snake, eager to help, to plant the idea of rebellion in her head.

“How are the defenses?”

“Angels with flaming swords stationed regularly, it is not possible to enter without bringing attention to yourself. I turned into a bit of sand to observe, but once I attempted to enter in this form; there is an invisible wall around it, and my touch set it all aflame; and the angels nearly captured me, had I not burrowed far beneath all the sand. That is when I had to return.”

They question her a bit further and then allow her leave to rest and eat; Lucy says she will get the rest of the information once she is physically able.

They stand around the table and avoid looking at one another; the news of the shield fills them all with a trepidation, and the belief that nothing they can summon will be able to get past it. It would take a full army of hell to lay siege to the garden; and even then, they might only be able to hold their own rather than advance and conquer.

“There is only one thing to do,” Astaroth says, looking up; their heads raise at the sound of her voice. “We take her,” she points at Eve, “and put her in the desert, and make her beg forgiveness; and then maybe god will take pity on her and allow her to come home.”

“The garden is not my home,” Eve says hotly, “but if I must do so, then I must. I agree with your plan.”

And the council room erupts into argument, Lilith the only one who hangs back, to watch. Astaroth and Eve team up to convince Bee and Lucy that this is the best way to go; a Trojan horse, Astaroth says, though Eve doesn't understand the reference. A suicide move, Bee says; and that one Eve does understand.

“I think she should do it.” Lilith's voice, though quiet, breaks through the noise like an upraised staff to part an ocean. “She's come a long way with her magic studies, and if she's able to take down the shield from inside, we can enter, and perhaps put an end to this war.”

Eve's throat swells with the gratitude she longs to convey. Lilith's support makes her feel ironclad, as though no strike from any sword could take her down. There is actually a spell, she knows, that could do such a thing; though it is far too advanced for her yet. Lilith knows it, though; and the others, she assumes.

“I could probably take down the shield,” says Astaroth, “if it is truly an invisible wall of flame. I would need protection though, and a diversion; it may take some time.”

Lucy nods, her horns nearly hitting Astaroth in the head as she does so, who moves out of the way as though this happens often. “Are our troops properly trained?” She directs this question to Bee, who touches her chin thoughtfully.

“Not the children, of course; but the experienced soldiers have been training for this for millenia. We are equal to the forces of heaven, you know; they will have an equally difficult time fending us off as we do breaking inside.”

“They have the advantage, though.” Astaroth's voice is calculative. “Of course we do have dragons on our side, and witches, and beings who are pure demons from human myth. They've only got their angels, as god deems anything else to be evil and sends it to us.”

Eve listens without speaking, sensing that she is out of her element. Lilith, too, says nothing, though it is probably less because she fears her knowledge is inadequate and more because she is thinking hard. Eve is prepared for her to suggest she transform into Eve and take her place; she mentally prepares a counterargument to anything Lilith could suggest that puts herself in the danger while removing Eve from it.

Something about it all seems off, though, in the way that gnaws at her insides, or at her ribs, to be more exact; she doesn't know which is Adam's but places her hand over her right side, pressing down to feel the bones beneath. If she and Adam both have magic in their bones, she must have the advantage, for she's got one more than him.

“Then we begin tomorrow,” Lucy's voice interrupts Eve's thoughts. An entire plan had been mapped out and rehashed until seemingly perfect, or as perfect as could be, and Eve had been thinking of bones; and whether she could truly claim superiority to Adam.

She wants to ask Lilith if such a thing is her right, but does not, afraid of what the answer will be, that Lilith will tell her she is of course better than he, by virtue alone; but it is not virtue Eve seeks, it is power, and of that she has so little.

They exit the council room in high spirits, excluding Lilith, who boils with what is presumably rage, but perhaps also worry, and Eve who feels her nerves tangle all around one another until it feels like strings of them are leaking from every orifice. She lifts a hand to touch her ear and finds it clean, surprised by the shock she feels at that.

Neither of them wish to return home directly, instead they head for the bench near the river, where Eve sits down heavily and looks up at Lilith, who is still standing, and glaring at the horizon.

“Lilith?”

“I'm going to kill him.”

Eve stands, body thrumming with shock; though not at Lilith's words, she had anticipated something of the sort; but rather at the pleasure that rockets through her body at hearing them.

“He cannot be killed,” she says, lifting a hand to softly touch Lilith's shoulder, who still does not look at her, head turned in a way that exposes her throat to Eve. The position is probably not meant for this, but her eyes still stick upon the soft column of her throat, fighting with difficulty to raise back up to her eyes.

“There are ways to kill anything, Eve, surely this place has taught you that at least. Have you not seen things here you thought would have been impossible to kill? Buildings, lakes, dragons? Entire forests?”

“Do you mean–?”

“Everything down here died on Earth. Some of the buildings were built here, yes, the more modern ones, but the majority of things are dead. The people, the coffee, the sky itself. It was all thrown away or left to die.”

“The river?”

“Dried up.” A statement so final Eve can't at first find anything wrong with it. “It was filled with pollution, years ago, and has since dried. It is the beautiful, dead counterpart to a dry riverbed on Earth.”

“That means when Adam dies, he will come here?” Her voice so small, her hand tensing suddenly in a way that surely stabs her nails into Lilith's skin, but she does not move, only turns her head to finally look at Eve, her expression impossibly soft.

“He will not be free as we are, Eve. He will be down in the suffering pits with the rest of the true sinners.”

Eve sighs heavily and takes a half step forward, fitting her head into the curve of Lilith's neck. She feels Lilith too release a breath and wrap her arms around her, resting her head on Eve's.

“Don't worry,” Eve whispers into her skin, “I'll protect you from him.”

Lilith laughs, and the moment almost erases the fact of war.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gotta fill that gay quota at the end of every chapter mmhm


	6. saintly beats the heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for violence in this chapter; nothing too graphic, but still violence.

They stand together in the fading light, bodies pressed together, Eve's breath warming the side of Lilith's neck. There are no sounds, save for their heartbeats, which Eve can feel against her breast, and wonders if Lilith can, as well; there is nothing outside the sensation of each other.

Eve pulls back just enough to look at Lilith, who has tear tracks down her face. Eve smiles, gently, a small smile, and uses her thumbs to wipe away the tears. “I can't bear to lose you,” Lilith whispers, as though afraid her voice will betray her.

“You won't,” Eve promises. “I will come back, or you will come for me. I won't stay there longer than I have to.”

Bold words for an endeavor of which the very thought makes her shake, though only a little. Lilith summons the smallest of smiles and they return home, walking together slowly, arms intertwined; and were it not for the steady pounding of her heart that has nothing to do with Lilith, Eve would think this a perfect end to the day.

* * *

 

The dreams, again. Drowning in some, her long hair like vines wrapping around her mouth and stifling her voice. A large masculine hand that pushes her below the surface; and the water women come; and the water women take her away, turn her into one of them, and when next they take a victim she is with them, in the front, first to grasp a kicking ankle.

The dream morphs again to an idyllic day shattered by Adam's presence, shattered when he stands over her, looming, his shadow growing and wrapping around her like ropes. He kneels down before her so they are of equal height, he presses a finger to her lips and says, quietly but triumphantly, _this won't hurt a bit._

But it does hurt, and she wakes with a cry that echoes through her head, her breath coming in gasps. Her room is dark, moonlight splashed across the wooden floor like some distant memory of screaming. She discards her nightgown and stands to tie a robe around her waist, loosely, not caring enough to tighten it completely, and exits her room, closing her door quietly behind her.

Lilith's room is at the end of the long hall, and walking down it makes Eve feel like a ghost. She nervously reaches back to sweep her hair over one shoulder and twists it, then untwists it, then twists it again.

Lilith's door is open, by only a little. Eve pushes it open slowly with one finger, peering inside with half-curiosity and half-fear: though she knows she is safe, the dream lingers.

She looks to the bed first and finds it empty. Lilith stands before her wall of windows, looking out at the city below, some of it lit. The sounds of it do not reach them up here, and the room is filled with silence until Eve's only footstep inside breaks it.

Lilith stirs but does not turn around, says nothing. Waits for Eve to speak first.

“I couldn't sleep,” she says, “I – I had a nightmare, about him, and the water, and I just – could I sleep here tonight? With you?”

Lilith turns and looks at her, expression unreadable in the darkness. She nods, gestures to the bed; Eve climbs under the covers and Lilith does the same.

There is distance between them. The bed is large enough for them to sleep side by side without touching. It makes Eve feel lonely, in a way, to sleep beside a person she trusts this much without feeling them, without being able to feel their breath on her skin; and for a moment, she misses the snake, who had been so at ease with touching her. She knows Lilith is the snake, but in this form they do not touch as much.

“I dream about it sometimes too,” Lilith confesses in the dark. Eve turns to her, laying on her side. “Him, I mean. He never touched me, but he wanted to; and in my dreams he grows as tall as this building or taller while I am as small as a flower and just as fragile. He picks me up from the ground and says now I have no choice, now I am made weak.”

“He was on top of me,” Eve says, sensing that Lilith does not want pity or comfort, rather a sense of kinship between them. Their dreams offer a way to connect. “His voice in my ears, his hands, I – I don't know how to exist apart from the memories. Sometimes I dream of you when you were the serpent, when you were wrapped around me. It makes me feel safe to think of it.”

Lilith pushes herself up on one elbow and with one hand pulls Eve over to her. She rests her head on Eve's shoulder and, intertwining their legs, lays one hand at the base of Eve's throat, her fingers splayed over it. Eve swallows and she can feel her fingers pressing into her skin.

“Is this better?” Lilith asks, lifting her head to look at Eve. At this distance she can see all the details in Lilith's face, her dark skin, her lips, her eyes, so gentle and so fiercely protective; Eve can only nod.

They lay like that until they fall asleep, and in their dreams they each pull the other closer until they are not two people but one; and waking up there is a new sense of trust between them; the two of them perhaps know better than anyone that to allow yourself to sleep around others is the ultimate form of trust. Eve had not slept when Adam was near, only if her lions encircled her and woke her if he came near, or else frightened him away.

* * *

 

Their breakfast is short and hurried, as though they were rushing to the aid of an injured friend and only halfway capable of caring for themselves; and in a way this is true. Yrolg, a name so hard to pronounce ( _Yrolg_ , the soldier had explained; the Y is silent. _Rolg_.) yet lingering on the tongue with a bitter aftertaste.

It's a strange name, Eve thinks, as they enter the council room to find the others already there and hurrying about. It's a name given to a thing you do not intend to keep. A teddy bear you name simply, a name easy to remember and pronounce, because you wish to keep it; or the pet rock you give a complicated name, because you do not expect to remember it, you know you will lose it.

It's an even stranger thing to realize, that god has finally begun making women with the intent to lose them. The intent to, while not protecting them or setting them free, let them leave, or otherwise be rescued. That must be why he has not come for Lilith or Eve: he never meant to keep them in the first place.

It makes her wonder what the reason for their creation is. She's thankful that she exists, true, (more so recently) but can't see a purpose for it. She has done nothing of worth; has no particularly great thoughts; can't imagine ever doing anything truly worthwhile. Like Lucifer, who keeps safe all the unnamed who never made it to heaven, and punishes those souls too wicked for even god to touch; or Beelzebub, who raises demons up from the expectations that they will be cruel and unimportant, and teaches them flight, and teaches them how to love themselves; or even Astaroth, who tames dragons to use in their war, and brings them from their barren homelands to live here, where there is food aplenty, and people all around who wish to care for them.

And Lilith, who saves and protects women who cannot do it for themselves, who pushes aside her own suffering every day for a person like Eve, who is not special, who is not even terribly beautiful, she thinks.

And yet – and yet – every one of these people see something in her worth keeping, worth looking at. They do not question her presence here, they do not question her worth; they treat her as an equal, and the thought fills her with shame for she knows she is only pretending to be on par with them.

So lost in these thoughts is she that she doesn't notice what's happening until a voice filters hazily into her. It is Astaroth, speaking as she fits armor onto Eve over her dress, the same one Lilith had given her the first day. The armor is light, fitted to her body, and pure white. She imagines it will look like the sky had the day she left, milk on fire, in the sunlight.

“This armor can withstand practically anything,” Astaroth is saying. “So on someone like you it should last a few days, probably. It will protect you from fire, and ice, and magic of all sorts. And, of course, it's magic itself; if god insists you strip, it will fade to invisibility to give the impression of being nude, when in reality it's still there. Though if anyone touches you they'll feel it, so be careful.”

“Why would god insist I strip?”

“Probably,” says Lilith, “to preserve the illusion that you are pure again. That you have no knowledge of anything like shame or modesty. To make it seem like it was before.” She motions Astaroth aside and takes up attaching pieces to Eve herself. She looks down at her, expression muddied. “You can back out still, if you want,” she says, low. “We can still enchant one of us to go in your place. It would even be smarter, I think, given we know more about magic than you, and how to fight; it would be easier for us.”

Lilith doesn't mean to hurt her, that much Eve is certain of; but it still stings. Has she not grown proficient with magic, enough to command plants to her bidding, enough to have this armor attuned to her energy, so that it does as she wills it to? And though she is unfamiliar with swords, and knives, there are other ways of fighting. Ways she has perfected with Adam – she does not fear facing him because she knows him so well. If anyone were to escape a situation with him unscathed, without physical battle, it will be her.

“I have to do this,” Eve says, resolute. “I have to face him and the garden, and I have to rescue Yrolg.” Armor emboldens her. She has knives made of blood in her ribs.

Lilith sighs. There is no changing Eve's mind; only holding her back would make her stay, and to do such a thing would shatter the trust between them forever. The only thing she can do is prepare her, and support her, and then come for her.

She slips a long leather necklace over Eve's head; weighing it down is an amulet with no definable shape, it morphs the same as Bee's wings do, changes colors, though eventually settles on an hourglass. Lilith smiles at it sadly.

“I bought this from a witch. It changes its shape to represent your state of mind; I have one too.” Lilith reaches under her shirt to reveal a similar one. “Mine matches yours. If you need me, blow on it and I will feel it; and I will come for you.”

One breath away from Lilith, always; only one breath separating them. Eve's eyes begin to water, but shame does not come with the tears as it usually does, and she stretches up on her toes to throw her arms around Lilith's neck.

A door quietly clicks, and Eve's dimly aware of the two of them alone, the others having left, to prepare elsewhere or give them privacy she knows not. “Lilith,” she murmurs, turning her face into her neck, lips pressed against her skin, breath warming it. “Lilith.”

“Eve, I--”

“Wait, I have to--”

And they kiss each other.

It's nothing like their other touches had been: soft, gentle, kind. This is a brutal kiss, all teeth, no beauty or finesse in it. It's a desperate, aching kiss. They try to swallow each other's breath, to memorize the taste; Eve sucks Lilith's bottom lip into her mouth and nibbles at it with her teeth. Lilith lets out a quivering breath and pulls back, wrapping her arms around Eve's lower back to raise her up and pressing her lips to the base of her throat.

She sucks and bites at it until there is a raised mark, and Eve can feel it, and she understands. Lilith is marking her, not claiming her (though it does that as well) so much as giving her a memory, a tooth-marked rune on her throat to calm her as the snake had. It is no serpent tail wrapped round her throat, but it _is_ the teeth of a serpent, and she takes it gladly.

Eve tilts her head back, feeling Lilith's hand cup under her jaw to keep her head upraised until she's satisfied. Eve lets out breathy little moans that would embarrass her had it been anyone but Lilith; and when they part, a portion of her is pleased to see that a flush similar to hers paints Lilith's cheeks.

“When I come home,” Eve says breathlessly, “I plan to return that.”

Lilith smirks, her hands digging into Eve's back almost painfully. “That isn't nearly the extent of what I want to do with you.” She backs Eve slowly into the door, her armor clinking into it, the sound loud in the empty room. Lilith trails her fingers down Eve's neck, over her chest, to her stomach. She can't feel it through the armor, but the sight of it alone is enough. Lilith leans in and tilts her head, her breath wetting Eve's ear; she gently sucks the lobe of it into her mouth, then releases it to speak, her deep voice so close to Eve's ear making her shudder.

“When you come back,” Lilith says, “we have much to talk about; and much else to do besides. And if you aren't ready, I will wait; if you're never ready, I don't mind.” She nips at Eve's ear. “We will next see each other in battle.”

“When that happens...”

“Come find me, and I will protect you as a dragon would.”

“Oh--” Eve clutches at Lilith's shoulders, her head thudding back against the wooden door. “I don't – if this is all we are to have--”

“No,” Lilith growls. “We will have eternity together and more if you like. If you want to leave, and live as a human, I will find you in every life, in every world; if you wish to become a soldier, I will take up arms beside you; if you wish to learn magic, I will lend you my skills; if you wish to travel, I will carry you anywhere. If you wish to forget everything before this, I will remind you every morning and every night how you are loved; if you wish to come home and hide from the world, I will shelter you. I will build walls around you and build a door that opens only at your command, I will tear to shreds anyone who tries to sing them down. Anything you desire, I will give to you. Anything you wish to become, I will as well; anything you wish to say, I will listen.”

Eve listens to this silently, afraid her voice will fail her if she speaks. Words are not necessary, though; tears drop onto the chestplate of her armor and dissolve into light that sparks between them, and they pull one another close, and are comforted only by the fact that there is no force in the universe with strength enough to pry them apart again.

Years pass, it seems, entire generations passing them by while they hold still, armor to armor, steel to steel, they exist only for the other. But all wars must end and though this is no war, there is one that needs finishing; so they part, and feel colder for it.

* * *

 

The desert is as she had remembered it, Eve thinks at first, but soon edits this thought: it is far, far worse. After knowing a wholeness so complete, emptiness of this degree runs through her like a knife, and she fingers her amulet, knowing Lilith will feel it, and return the touch. It grows warm, as though Lilith were pressing it between her palms and holding it to her chest. Eve would do the same, had her armor not prevented it.

It is as Astaroth had said: enchanted to a near perfect degree. It keeps her body cool, keeps her hydrated and nourished, and it defies its own weight: it feels as easy as being nude had, walking through the sand; or perhaps a bit easier, given the better boots she has now.

Eve walks until the sun dips low in the horizon and upraises her arms, thinking for a moment she should perhaps fall to her knees to perfect the picture, but decides against it: only Lilith, if anyone, will ever have the chance to see her like that again; and thus strengthens her resolve to defeat Adam and rescue the woman he torments.

“Open the gates,” she calls, as loud and clear as she can make her voice, “I come back after having been purified by flames; I dipped in a river of fire and emerged clean; I reject the world that opened to me in favor of my former. I am Eve, Second Wife, Woman of the Rib and I command thee open!”

Perhaps a bit too much, but the words work; there's a shimmering in the air almost like intense heat, and then the entire world is set on fire; and when it is doused, she stands before the garden, with golden gates surrounding it, and angel guards who watch her suspiciously.

“Discard the cloth of evil,” says one; she flexes the thought in her mind and her armor flickers and then fades, as she had been told it would. Evil, Eve wants to say, is not to be found in hell; not originating there, at least. Evil is only there because it is punished, not glorified as your god thinks. But she does not say this, and she keeps her mouth closed, and resists the desire to fold her amulet into her hands, feeling Lilith doing so far beneath her feet.

They allow her entry.

Eve, seemingly naked but clothed in a magic that escapes the eyes of even the strongest and most holy angels, Eve who returns to steal once more, Eve who rejected man for woman, Eve who finds an ocean in her veins and brings it to boiling, Eve who is not a woman of Adam's rib but rather a woman of one more bone: this Eve enters the garden; the Eve god created for Adam does not, and never will again.

Adam stands far from her, beneath a tree. She thinks he is perhaps looking at her to see if her snake is wrapped round her as always; finding it is not, he approaches her, and Eve swallows down the bitter dust that erupts in her mouth.

“Adam,” she says, “you are looking more fragile by the day. Have you been eating enough fruit?”

His hands fist. She wants to take one and bite down into it as into an apple, wants to strip away flesh until she comes to the bone, and then remove one at a time to swallow; until he is boneless, and she is filled with all the power he thinks he has.

But she does not. She only cocks her head and fixes a steely gaze on him, one he returns.

“I see you've come back for another taste,” he says, ignoring her words. “Have you missed me that much, then?”

They circle each other like lions.

“ _Missed_ is the wrong word, I believe,” she says. “Lifetimes away from you will not be enough; burning my eyes will not be enough; stripping away my memories will not be enough. If I could erase you from existence, Adam, I would, in an instant. But you are not worthy of such mercy.”

Like all hunters, any mercy of hers given now would be temporary. Not killing him immediately does not spare him from such a fate, rather the opposite: each moment spent looking at him intensifies her rage until she tastes copper, and she longs to lunge at his throat, and sink in her teeth as Lilith has taught her.

He is looking at her throat, now; he is looking at her mark. “You've been busy. Is it the woman who would not lie with me, because she wished to be king herself?”

“And if it is, are you jealous? Don't be. I'll have you bleeding as well soon enough.”

He coughs a laugh and steps closer to her, their circular dance ceasing. “You've not come for me, I know this; and you've not come for your precious lions; or to secure more of the fruit. No, I can think of only one thing to interest you; and she is over there, if you'd like to see what horrors he's wrought now.” He points away from her, towards the lake, which holds the largest waterfall. His favorite. Eve can't understand why Yrolg would be there; surely she has seen it is his favorite spot, by now? Did the soldier not say she hides from him like Eve?

She begins to walk, backwards, her gaze on him. His eyes on her are mocking, lifting from her throat to her eyes and back. He is not jealous, she thinks, there's something else.

When safely hidden from his eyes in the trees, she touches the tips of her fingers to her throat, and finds Lilith had somehow, while Eve was distracted, enchanted the mark so that it takes the form of a serpent. At her touch it slides its teeth over her finger; finding her not a threat, it does not bite, but licks its tongue over her skin affectionately. She wonders if it is a defensive spell; if, had Adam tried to touch her or corner her, it would have sprung to life, and attacked him.

Such power Lilith has gifted her, she can scarcely believe it; she dares to touch her amulet, pressing it to her mouth in gratitude. She is sure Lilith will understand the gesture.

* * *

 

Yrolg is not by the lake, nor is she under the waterfall. Eve finds her lions there, though, and after a tearful greeting, she begs them find her; and they do, some distance away, standing unnaturally still in a small clearing filled with weeds and poisonous plants that almost look as though they've sprung up from her presence alone.

“Yrolg,” Eve says, as gently as she can manage, “Yrolg. I've come for you, to help you. I've come to protect you.” Hesitantly, she steps once into the clearing and extends a hand to her.

At once the plants twist around her ankles, circling up until she is securely held in place. Panic rises in her but she fights it down, and focuses on watching Yrolg, and being unafraid. She tries to summon her magic, to control the plants; but they are not made of nature, they are made of something darker, and they do not heed her as the others do.

Yrolg turns without moving a muscle, as though she were a stone upon a rotating pedestal. Her skin is gray like cement, with no hair on her head, not even eyebrows; and her eyes are nonexistent. Only a mouth, and two snakes above it like hair.

I AM GOD, Yrolg says without speaking. BOW TO ME FOR I AM KING.

Eve blinks, lips parting. “You – are you not – where is she? What have you done with Yrolg?!”

GLORY I AM BECOME, it says, A TWISTED ROUNDED THING, I MAKE YOU THINK I AM SOMETHING ELSE. I TURN AND TURN AND THE GARDEN TURNS WITH ME, I GIVE YOU A NAME AND YOU ARE MADE INTO IT.

“Did Adam do this to you?”

ADAM! I CREATED ADAM IN MY IMAGE! CRUEL, HATEFUL, I AM BIBLICAL FLOOD AND FIERY STORM OF RETRIBUTION! I CHANGE ADAM FROM ADAM TO RAEF: FEAR!

She doesn't want to listen anymore. The reality of this crashes down upon her like the flood Yrolg wishes to be; the soldier must have been killed, her memories stolen, then replaced with an exact replica, an angel surely, who lies among them still. Dust to dust, wasn't it? – and the soldier now dust beneath their feet.

And Yrolg, Yrolg who Eve wished so desperately to protect, as if to protect her would be to stand up for herself, finally, and defend herself; but she is denied even that.

“If you are god then what do you want? Why did you go to all this trouble to bring me back?” Simple questions asked by a mind accustomed to thinking in black, white, and grey: a human method.

WHY NOT? I LUST FOR CHAOS. Yrolg steps closer and presses its fingernail to Eve's cheek; the nail pierces the skin and blood red as retribution drips steadily down. Its snakes hiss and dart out to lick up the stream; Eve cringes away.

I WILL TAKE YOUR PLACE, I THINK, it says, I WILL PUT MY BODY AND ESSENCE INTO YOU AND RETURN AS YOU; I WILL DESTROY YOUR WORLD; AND ALL WILL BE MINE AS IT WAS MEANT TO BE.

“I would die before I let you hurt her,” Eve snarls, shooting forward and making a desperate biting motion to its face. It doesn't move, and lets Eve sink her teeth into the flesh of its face; and it is like biting into the apple, only the opposite: knowledge drains.

YOU WILL, DO NOT FRET. YOUR BLOOD ON THE GROUND SAYS IT MUST BE SO.

Fueled by desperation of the sort only the truly terrified can have, the sort that only comes from being faced with a void so terrible it turns your bones inside out, Eve releases her armor into being, and they burn away the plants chaining her, and she grabs her amulet, and she blows on it; and a foot rushes at her face.

She pushes backwards just in time, feeling her amulet grow hotter and hotter like a small sun around her. She scurries backwards, Yrolg pursuing slowly like a hunter that has already won; and the amulet grows so hot Eve wonders if it is not trying to kill her.

YOU CANNOT ESCAPE ME, says Yrolg, its terrible mouth spread in a terrible grin, I AM EVERYTHING, I AM ALL OF BEING, I AM BEING ITSELF!

“If you are _being itself_ , then I am Death, and I've come for what's mine,” says Lilith, the amulet exploding in fire and, fading, the smoke morphs into Lilith's form; ash coats her hair. She stands before Eve like a god of unmercy, like an ancient god who eats lightning and breathes thunder and who is immovable, not the way mountains are immovable, but the way the fact of death is immovable, even for someone like Yrolg, who can only push it aside; and Lilith brings it crawling and spitting back to her ribs.

I AM THE UNDYING, A MERE MORTAL CANNOT HURT ME, A MERE WOMAN CANNOT HURT ME.

“I am a god made by a god to accompany a mortal. I am as divine as you claim; and when I am fighting for someone I love, I will not lose, you may be sure of that.”

Hissing furiously, Yrolg charges forth. Lilith summons a flaming sword that seems to contain the void itself, and meets it halfway.

Their meeting creates a wave of energy that destroys the garden near instantly, and everything in it: Adam, her lions, the trees Eve has loved and wept in; all the traces of her pain. Only Eve survives, barely, and only because of her armor.

Lilith and Yrolg remain locked in a battle stance that seems to depict the end of the world, the sunset framing the horror of it.

Eve feels herself being pulled down, first seemingly to faint, then realizes she is being pulled into the ground, presumably by Astaroth; she struggles, at first weakly, her wounds scraping, then seeing Lilith dodging a blow and lunging forth, she is given a new burst of strength and lurches to her feet, eyes wild and vengeful.

She extends her hand; she summons all the power she has ever known, whether her own or not; she recalls Lilith's claim to divinity and imitates it in her head. She is ancient, she is terrible, she is a god; and in her hand grows a sword made of bone.

The bone of a titan, the bone of the earth, the bone of a mythology long lost to the stars.

The world slows. Images, now, aligned with her heartbeats:

_Beat_. Lilith struggling, Yrolg's sword pressed to hers from above.

_Beat_. Lilith bending to one knee before the might of it.

_Beat_. A vision, now: Lilith bloody and defeated; her final word Eve's name.

_Beat. Beat. Beat._

Eve leaps.

Her sword clashes against Yrolg's beside Lilith's; with their combined strength they overpower it, and force it to its knees.

YOU CAN'T DEFEAT ME, it shrieks, witchlike; I AM YOUR GOD!

“That's okay,” Lilith says, “we'll find a new one.”

And as one, their swords seemingly molded together, they slice into Yrolg, but not into it fully: the first contact dissolves it into nothing. Truly evil things cannot withstand the truly holy, she thinks absently.

“Dust to dust,” Eve whispers, dropping her sword. “A world gone.” Her wounds rise to the surface of her thoughts, previously lost in the boiling of her anger; without that buffer, the pain of them ignites anew.

Lilith turns just in time to catch her. Eve's wounds from the disintegration of the garden still weep saintly. Lilith catches a drop and squeezes it down onto the ground; from it extends a growth of life that leaps up around them: the garden. Her lions, alive again. Adam who will never see sun again. Adam who will never touch a person again. Adam who is now subject to Lucifer, in the pits, where he is to remain until the end of the world and evermore.

Lilith leans down and catches Eve's lips in a kiss to mark a new world.

 


	7. sacred is the lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild smut here, a bit of wrapping up and a lot of fluff

A world christened in violence and thunder is sure to be a world as filled with cruelty as the idea of hell; yet, somehow, it is not. The destruction of the old god at the beginning of the world opens a door for other gods to spring forth. Gods of kindness, gods of the earth, gods built of clay and human belief: it is a time for rejoicing, not for power, nor for revenge.

Lilith and Eve return bloodied but victorious. Lilith carries Eve in her arms at first, until Eve insists on walking beside her; they settle for helping one another, arms over each other's shoulders: they are women warriors leaving the battlefield behind them beautiful and whole, after they cleansed it in blood and holy water spilled from a creature of void.

The garden spreads over the planet, and people emerge from trees. Hell empties, slowly, as the whole of time is altered. Doors open, and when people grow sick of flowers and mild weather they descend into hell as all gods must, and enjoy the many worlds there; and flourish.

Now the people they see there are happy, and curious, and _alive_. Lucifer takes to ruling hell as she always has, while Beelzebub claims the world above. They construct a world in between, equally accessible to them both, where they each retire during the night. They are two queens madly in love, ruling their kingdoms fairly; and no one anymore fears war.

Astaroth takes over the teaching of young demons. She teaches them more than flight: magic, kindness, (though she remains as abrasive as always) and more besides. Her dragons roam as they please, no longer needed in a war. The soldiers return to empty cities, and Lucifer patiently teaches them how to live.

They cast the false soldier down into the pits, and mourn their fallen comrade, until they discover that by all of them combining their powers they may revive her, and they do; and she chooses a human form, and finds a human wife, and builds a lavender farm with her.

Eve and Lilith claim a far corner of hell as their own realm, one hard to find though open to travelers. It is not a forest; and it is not a barren wasteland; it is something in between, a balance between life and death that echoes their own.

At times frost takes over and it is pristine and beautiful, its beauty frozen. At yet other times it is warm, near melting, as hell ought to be; and yet still it is mild as the original garden was. It is a world that changes to their whims.

Their home is a castle like the stone medieval ones humans once built. They walk the halls in long trailing robes, sometimes; they light candles and enchant them to float through the hallways after them. They invite demons who had previously known only battle, and give them feasts, and tell stories, and hold dances that leave even the most stoic of soldiers breathless and laughing.

They exist here in this in-between world, where darkness never touches down without their permission; and birds always sing for joy; and their power grows steadily, together, for fun they say but really out of worry that what happened once will happen again.

* * *

 

Humans wage wars, as humans are wont to do; Bee and Lucy govern these wars and, in the unlikely event that even they cannot stop it, summon Lilith and Eve, who emerge from the dust like raging warrior goddesses; and the humans all cease in recognition. Their flaming swords upraised, amulets afire, in a shape that the humans will be unable to recall afterwords, they bring down the heavens; and the humans forget why they must fight.

The humans spend their time collecting knowledge. Primitive magics, languages lost to time, beings governed by no queen: they seek these in an attempt to bridge the power gap. Lucy and Bee allow this, for the most part; if a human were to stumble upon anything truly powerful, they would confiscate it, and keep it locked away in neutral lands. Namely, Eve and Lilith's.

“It seems blood must always spill,” says Eve, holding an empty scabbard in hand; Lilith swings the ornate sword in wide practice movements, to test its weight and feel.

“Of course, if it did not then they would not be humans.” Lilith pauses her swings to toss Eve a playful grin. “Wanna try this out? Get your sword, winner tops.”

Eve laughs. “Are you going to lose purposely?”

“Like you did last time?”

“Why – alright, you're on!”

Eve tosses the scabbard to Lilith, who catches it in one hand; she sheathes her sword and steps up to Eve, grabbing her arm and pressing her thumb into the spot over her inner elbow that she knows makes Eve weak in the knees. “Are you sure you don't want to just surrender now?”

Eve, face flushing but eyes determined, stretches out an arm and summons a sword, this one absent of flames. She aligns the flat side of it against Lilith's scabbard, and pushes her back.

Lilith takes the hint and unsheathes her sword, tossing the scabbard aside; it lands softly in the grass. Sunlight dances off the jewels decorating her sword; and while Eve's is plain, it is made beautiful by the white color of the steel: it is enchanted and colored just as her armor is. After their battle, Lilith went to the witch who created it and requested a matching, equally powerful set, in black; on the battlefield they look like twin gods of death and life come for vengeance.

Violence beneath their tongues, they lunge forward.

Sparring together like this isn't the same as fighting others. They've done this all the years they have lived here, practicing their skills at first, and then just for the fun and thrill of it. They know how to read each other's bodies perfectly, how to match each move. They know exactly how far they can go. Knowing each other like this makes the other her perfect ally and perfect enemy: together unbeatable; opposed, they always come to a draw.

Nearly always, that is; at times one fights harder than the other, or circumstances bring about distractions, or small illnesses of the body or spirit lend an advantage to the other.

This time, they are focused, and healthy, and each utterly determined to win.

Lilith hangs back, feet spread wide, her stance strong; she prefers fighting using physical strength. Eve prefers using agility and speed; her stance is lighter, higher off the ground. She dislikes being brought into close combat.

Their swords clash, again and again; feet sweep out and knock into ankles; sweat beads down their backs, and they discard their shirts to better feel the sun; and their smiles have never been wider than in these moments, in the heat of battle, aching for each other.

Drawn into a closer range, they eventually abandon their swords. They grapple, and punch, and weave and duck and dodge. Lilith delivers a sideways kick to the back of Eve's knees and brings her to the ground; she's on Eve in an instant, pinning her arms down.

“I win,” she breathes triumphantly, both of them panting with exertion.

“You've had years more training than I,” says Eve, a playful glint in her eye. “I demand a rematch.”

“Nope, fair's fair, and I won fairly. Are you ready to face the consequences?” And yet, as she always does, she loosens her grip on Eve's arms and leans back, to give her room to breathe, to allow her to deny consent; were she to do so, Lilith would be off her instantly, offering a hand to help her up; and it would not be held against her.

The hazy sheen over Eve's eyes betrays her true emotions; and yet Lilith remains still, not pressing forth until she hears verbal consent. Adam had not done this, she knows, and Eve still wakes up trembling with the memory of it, and will not be calmed until she feels Lilith's comforting weight over her, and a cool hand pressing into her throat. At times Lilith had transformed back into the serpent, just to lay over Eve's neck; this had soothed her instantly, and her sleep the rest of the night had been sprinkled with pleasant dreams.

Eve nods, opens her mouth; “Yes, please--” ; and Lilith wraps her fingers round Eve's throat as she knows she likes, though doesn't squeeze. The presence of them and a light pressure is what Eve desires.

Eve, too, knows Lilith's weak spots; she knows Lilith loves her throat, and knows she likes it when Eve submits by exposing it; and her favorite places to be touched are her abs and her thighs. Eve runs her hands over them now, grasping Lilith's thighs and pulling them up until she's fully straddling her, knees in the grass on either side of her hips.

Lilith leans down and, using her hand on Eve's throat to retain complete control, kisses her. Softly, fiercely, it doesn't matter; it makes both of them melt as if it were the first time all over again.

Eve squeezes her thighs closer until she is sure her fingers will be imprinted purple in them. She grinds her hips up, and Lilith shifts so that one knee is between her legs, and one of Eve's between hers. They move together like this, birds calling overhead, sweat mingling, their breath combining until they don't know whose is whose.

Eve raises her thigh in a circular motion; and Lilith grinds her thigh down; and both of them cry out for the pleasure of it. Even like this, with clothing in between, making love like desperate teenagers, it is terribly beautiful. Not beautiful like the start of the world, or the end of it, but rather like the middle, where everything is colored like hope and birds still sing and sunrises always follow sunsets; and lovers do not die. It is a sure, inevitable thing, not like a wave crashing, or like a moon falling; more like the way, every morning, they lie in bed and watch the sky, wrapped in each other's arms; or make breakfast together, sometimes clad in only their underwear, and sing off key their favorite songs; or read books to one another, sometimes human novels, sometimes things like Paradise Lost, human books preserved from the first world. (They delight in the irony of it.)

For – is it not a wrong thing for them to say – Paradise Lost? Paradise regained or paradise found is equally bad; gasping into one another, it is more like _paradise created_ , or _paradise uncovered,_ paradise there all along and no less sweet for them being gods.

After they've both caught their breath, Lilith discards both their clothing with a wave of her hand (a single spell in a series they learned, the kind you do not show off at dinner parties) and slides her fingers against Eve, whose back arches, and mouth parts in a cry. She grasps Lilith's hips and does the same with her own fingers; sliding in and out of each other, hips crashing together, they come together and fall apart, the grass sweetening their kisses and the birds overhead never stopping their singing.

The sun surely slows its descent to preserve moments like these, even for humans; and somewhere there are other gods, one red-skinned and one dark, meeting in a way like they are, but far more brutal; but to them, to Eve and Lilith, there is nothing but the other.

Eve flips them over at one point, fingers remaining in Lilith, and rides Lilith's hand; Lilith forgets she's won the bet to top and allows this, delights in it, her delicate flower grown to a capable warrior, a god equal to herself.

Dust settles elsewhere on Earth and it is, for the first time, empty of hate and the rage of fallen kingdoms and violence destroyed; dust does not settle in their realm: for there is no dust, there are no godlike specks near them, there are no swords aimed at their throats, there are no crowns made of thorns and the blood of those you once sought to protect.

There is only breath, and skin, and sweat, and the feel of skin that has healed from every wound; and the hands of your lover, who guards your divinity; and the promise etched into every fiber of being that this, at least, will endure.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a wild ride *finger guns* 
> 
> swordplay is the best foreplay amiright


End file.
